


Remember Me

by Inky_Blackheart



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Artist Steve Rogers, Canonical Character Death, Civil War: Casualties of War (Marvel), Friendship, Gen, Old Friends, POV Steve Rogers, Proud Canadian Logan, References to Weapon X, References to Winter Soldier program, World War II, X Mansion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:22:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24000538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inky_Blackheart/pseuds/Inky_Blackheart
Summary: War takes more than it gives. No one knows this better than Captain Steve Rogers. So when he hears that "Lucky" Jim Howlett, a member of his unit, is both still alive and a superhero, he decides to visit his old friend, whether or not he remembers who Steve is.
Relationships: Logan (X-Men) & Steve Rogers
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50





	Remember Me

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Character death (Canon), Logan drinking beer, references to torture
> 
> Not a happy ending, folks. You've been warned.

Autumn leaves scattered across beaten asphalt on the road in front of Steve Rogers. The chill of New York state blew through his motorcycle jacket and bit his hands. He  scarcely  noticed, trying to remember which turn led to his destination.  Charles Xavier had given him excellent directions, but nerves kept Steve from recalling them in full detail . His old canvas knapsack rubbed against his back as he rode. Steve prayed the papers inside them would stay.

He hadn't seen “Lucky” Jim Howlett—no, Logan now—in over 90 years, but he remembered him clearly. It was hard to forget a man like Jim—Logan. Short, hot-tempered but fiercely loyal, Steve had become fast friends with the plucky Canadian soldier. He assumed that Logan, like most of his former friends, had died. It was after watching the X-men stop an attack on the president that he realized he was mistaken.

What did you even say to someone after that? Hi, we fought together in World War Two, and I'm not dead? No, Professor Xavier said it was unlikely Logan would remember him, some sort of trauma after the war. Still, Steve had to see him. He just wanted to know that someone else survived WW2, more or less in one piece. 

And in better shape than Bucky.

Steve had lost so much already. Despite his powers and his improved health, the war took more than it gave. All he wanted was to take something back. 

Steve noticed the old twisted tree on the side of the road, and could faintly hear the sounds of children playing. This must be the turn, he thought. The road gradually evened out as he drew closer and closer to his destination. Soon he stopped at a gate reading “Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters”. He looked through the cast iron at the school itself. Steve couldn't help but whistle at the Xavier Institute grounds. They were expansive, covered in gently dying greenery and were full of children, wandering and playing and laughing. Steve gently pushed open the gate and rode his bike up the driveway.

Most of the children didn't notice him, and the ones that did were polite enough to point and whisper but leave him be. Steve made a note to come back and spend some time with the kids on the way out. He never saw the point of persecuting children with no choice in how they were born. Whether that was who you loved or what you could do, it didn't matter. Plus, it would show them that the Avengers, or at least Captain America, supported mutants. If a threat came to Earth that the Avengers couldn’t handle, they would need the X-men’s help.

Steve stopped before the massive wood doors, hand hovering over the ancient wrought iron knocker . The door swung open before him, revealing a bald older man in a wheelchair smiling up at him. Steve recognized him as Charles Xavier. He had seen him on TV, giving a speech to congress. The professor was one heck of an orator. Steve held out his hand.

“Captain Steven Rogers, sir.”

Xavier shook his hand. “Professor Charles Xavier.  I believe  we spoke on the phone.”

“Yes sir. Your associate, Mr. Summers,  I believe , didn't believe that Captain America was on the phone.”

“Ah yes. You can imagine how foolish he felt when he learned otherwise. Please, do come in.” Professor Xavier beckoned him inside.  Steve followed him into the expansive mansion, openly gawking at the art on the walls and the ornate woodwork.  A grin crossed Professor Xavier’s face, but only briefly.“I must apologize in advance,” he said evenly, “Logan is probably not as you remember him.”

“Does he still smoke cigars, drink beer and call people “bub”?”

Xavier raised an eyebrow. “I suppose it's good to know that so little has changed.” He continued.  “He recently “unlocked” his memories, to borrow a colloquialism, but he has difficulty accessing them . I cannot promise that he'll remember you.”

“That’s okay, sir. I  just  need to see him.”

“I understand,” Professor Xavier said. “And please, ‘Professor’ is fine. Sir makes me feel  terribly  old.”

“Of course,” Steve replied. “Professor.”

They stopped before a large door. “My office,” Professor Xavier explained. “He’s in here.” The professor pressed a button on the wall, gesturing for Steve to enter first. Steve took a deep breath and went inside.

Logan was sipping a beer and leaning against a bookshelf when Steve entered. He at least had the decorum to put down the can and reach for Steve's hand to shake when he entered Xavier’s large office.  Charles had raised an eyebrow at the dripping can but said nothing before introducing the two.

“Logan, this is Captain--”

“Captain America,” Logan said,  brusquely, closing his hand over Steve's and giving it a firm shake. _His grip used to be a lot softer,_ Steve thought, but the calloused hands were still the same. “Everyone knows you, bub. It's nice to meet ya.”

“Yes, same to you, Ji—Logan.”

A silence stretched between them. Logan went back to the shelf and retrieved his can. He sipped at his beer as he gave Steve a once over. “Captain America, in the flesh, eh?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Steve resisted the urge to laugh  awkwardly .

“Why did you want to see me?” Logan asked. “Charles wouldn’t say. It’s not about Bruce, is it? I told him that was an accident, but the big green a-hole wouldn’t listen. How was I supposed to know not to smoke there?”

Steve laughed a little. “No, Bruce didn’t send me. I’m not here on official business.”

“Oh.” Logan took another sip. "Why the hell are you here, then?"

"Logan, language." Professor Xavier warned. 

"He's a soldier, he can deal with a few curses," Logan smirked at him. "Right, Cap?"

"Heh, no worries from me." Steve took a deep breath. “We served together, in the war.”

“Did we now.” Logan raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Steve said, words pouring from his mouth. Stories he had forgotten leapt to mind and he remembered the smell of the trenches, cigars and beers as he spoke. He opened his backpack as he talked and gave Logan a photograph. “You got assigned to our unit from the Canadian army, you and your brother Victor. Victor got transferred out after he broke Pinkerton’s arm. You stayed. You shared a tent with Barnes and I. Never saw a scratch on you, the entire war. We all called you “Lucky Jim”. You and Bucky used to argue about hockey and baseball. You and Fury used to share cigars when rations were low. I’ve never seen anyone drink so much German beer. You always had my back. When I said to cover me, you were there. I could always count on you to protect the squad.”

Logan looked away during part of the talk., staring down at the picture. A younger version of both of them stared back at him. Logan’s hair was cut military style, but his smile and wild eyes were the same. He had a beer in one hand a rifle in the other. Steve was in his terrible original costume, with his shield, but he looked happier.  Perhaps he was, then. Everything seemed so much simpler.

Steve sighed. “I’m sorry, Logan. Professor Xavier told me you suffered brain trauma after the war. He said you  probably  wouldn’t remember me.”

“You could call it that,” Logan said, extending his claws. Steve did not flinch, even though he wanted to, out of respect. _Jesus,_ he thought. _That's worse than Buck's arm._ “About 15 years ago I got taken by these scientists. They made me an animal. They took my memory.”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve said. Logan looked into his eyes, then looked away.

“I’ve been working on, whatcha call it, Chuck has some fancy word...reconnecting pathways or some shit. My memory is coming back in pieces, but I can’t remember the war. I have tags from it, so I know I was there, but...I’m sorry, Captain,” Logan said, quieter than usual. A sad rasp crept into his voice. “I can’t remember any of that. I’ve seen you on TV, but I don’t know you.

“It’s okay. I understand.” Steve said quietly. He could feel his body sink, crestfallen. Seeing Jim hadn't been a waste of time per se, but he had hoped...it didn't matter.  Steve was used to his friends being warped beyond recognition by evil outside their control. He was used to not being remembered. It hurt, but he'd survive.

Xavier came to his side. “If you are ready to go, Captain, I will see you out.”

Steve straightened. “If it's alright with you, Professor, I'd like to chat with some of the kids before I go back to the city."

“Of course,” said Charles with a smile, “it's not every day we're visited by Captain Steven Grant Rogers, after all.”

Steve looked back at Logan. Something flashed in his eyes, but Logan’s face remained impassive.

“Before I go,” Steve stopped, turning back to Logan, “I have something for you.” Steve reached into his backpack and pulled out a drawing. It was a cartoon bear fighting a cigar-smoking wolverine. Underneath Steve had written “Canadian standoff” and signed it Captain Steven Grant Rogers. “You and Bucky spent three days arguing over if a bear could beat a wolverine. Buck didn’t even think those things were real. I drew this for you because you two wouldn’t shut up. I meant to give it to you before---” Steve paused. Logan stared at the drawing. “I hope you like it.”

Logan shot up suddenly, knocking over some of Charles' papers. His drawing flapped as he ran. He bolted to the door, pausing only to say “I'll be...” before turning and leaving.

“Is he coming back?” asked Steve.

“ I believe so,” said Charles, as if he knew something that he was waiting for Steve to find out. His smile was vaguely disconcerting.

Logan came back into the room in the same flurry he left, carrying a beaten old leather jacket.  He dug through the pockets until he found a laminated piece of paper, hunching over to look at it before standing up again. He walked over to Steve and shoved the paper in his face. “You drew this.”

Steve gently pushed the other man's arms out of the way before looking at the paper.  It was a landscape drawing of rolling forest, snowy mountains and a peaceful river, drawn in standard pencil. There were two sentences scribbled at the bottom.  One read “Alberta according to Jim” and the other was his signature, Captain Steven Grant Rogers.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Why?”

“You were homesick.” Steve looked away from Logan's intense stare. “You missed Alberta. I asked you to tell me about it, and you told me about the mountains and the forests and the rivers. I drew it for you the night before I  was sent deeper into enemy territory. You said...”

“I'll always treasure your scribbling, Cap.” Steve looked up and saw tears in Logan's eyes as he spoke. He also saw recognition, and both deep sadness and overwhelming joy. Logan put his hands on Steve's arms, looking at him as if for the first time, before pulling him into a crushing hug. Steve thought he heard soft gasping sounds as if Logan were crying. Steve found himself doing the same, tears freely rolling down his cheeks.

“I missed you,” Logan said,  softly. “I remember that now. They told me that you saved everyone, we were all so proud...but I missed you. Every damn day. You were dead and I...I missed you. So damn much.”

“Logan,” Steve sobbed.

“I couldn’t protect you,” Logan whispered. “The one time I didn’t have your back...”

“Look at me,” Steve tried to joke, “Do I look like I need protection? I’d do the same thing again.” Steve said. “It was worth it. Don’t hate yourself for this.”

After a few moments, they pulled apart.  Steve noted that Charles had left the room,  respectfully giving the men their distance.

“I kept your drawing. I carried it in my pocket everywhere.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“I told you, I’d always cherish your scribbles,” Logan said, beaming. “And I did. Jesus, this thing’s gotta be 70 years old by now.”

“God Logan, older than that. We’re relics.” Steve returned the smile. “I was so happy when they told me you were still alive. I knew you weren’t  just  lucky.”

“No one knew what mutants were then, bub. They would have sent me to a lab somewhere and cut me open. Sooner, I mean., then they did.”

“Jesus.” Steve gave Logan’s arm a squeeze. His bones really were metal under all that muscle. “What happened?”

“It’s a long story. But, if you want to stick around for a bit, have another beer with me, I’ll fill ya in.”  Logan clapped Steve on the back, attempting to reach for his shoulders but not quite getting there due to his short stature. “You’ve been asleep for a long-ass time, bub.  I feel  like I’ve got a lot to fill you in on.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” Steve said, looking into the face of his friend. He didn’t have many other people, but if anyone survived, he was glad that it was Logan. He was glad Logan was the same old  curmudgeonly but kindly Canadian that he remembered. Not the broken wreck Bucky had become. He almost wished Buck had been a mutant, and there had been people like the professor to look out for him. But maybe he and Logan could be that. If not, at least he had someone who remembered him as Steve, the artist, and not just  Captain America. That was what he’d wanted.

“Still drink that cheap American crap?” Logan asked.

“I’ll have what you’re having. The cheap Canadian crap."

Logan growled at him, giving him a quick hip-check. “Think I can afford anything else? I live on a teacher’s salary.”

“Soldier’s paltry pay to a teacher’s stipend. We’ve  really  upgraded, haven’t we?”

“We’ve got teams now,” Logan said,  suddenly solemn. “We’ve got friends, people to protect. Now we’ve got each other. I’d say we did.”

“Me too,” Steve said quietly, giving his friend a side-hug. “We  really  did.”

#

Logan stood over a headstone. He was warm in the bright sunlight, beating down on his black suit. He wiped a tear from his eye.  After all the dust had settled, after everyone acted like they hated each other for months, this was what ended the stupid, stupid conflict. It should never have come to this.

It should have been him.

“The one time I’m not there.” He muttered, taking a long swig of his cheap American beer. “I’m sorry, Steve. You were the one person I didn’t have to protect.”

The headstone remained silent. Somewhere in the background, he could hear the songs Steve used to hum around the campfire. He pulled the drawing out of his pocket, the one of Alberta, and the one of the wolverine and the bear. As long as he had those, he’d always have a part of his friend. His hand tightened. He’d have this, but it would never be enough. “ Maybe  I shoulda protected you anyway.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was started a while ago, back after Civil War (the comics, not the movie), but it sat on my computer for a long time. I edited it a bit after Civil War (the movie) but then I forgot about it. Then, after COVID-19 hit, and my friend passed away, I decided to brush it off, give it a good edit, and post it. So, it's a little out of date, but just insert the most recent time Captain America died into the ending, haha. I hope you enjoyed this fic, and I hope you're doing well. 
> 
> My Tumblr: https://inkyblacc.tumblr.com/


End file.
